


The Experiment

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, First Time, Implied Sexual Content, Multiple Crossovers, POV Molly Hooper, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a question that can only be solved with Molly's help, but will the end result bring them closer together or push them further apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Experiment

Molly had avoided Sherlock like the plague since the incident in the laboratory.  The younger Sherlock that is.  The elder had come round to apologise on his brother’s behalf and they had been spending more time together.  Only as friends of course.  Their one night stand had been just that…one night.

The only reason that she was even at Baker Street was because the Sherlock had asked her to meet him with the promise that his younger brother would be out.  She should have known better than to agree to a meeting in hostile territory.

“Planning to slap me again?” Sherlock asked as he stood, poring over his clue wall.

“That depends.  Are you going to say something rude again?”

“Probably.”

Molly pursed her lips.  “Then yes.”

“Was your evening with my brother satisfactory?  Perhaps you were hoping to compare our methods.”

“There is no comparison.”

“Quite right.  What I lack in experience, I make up for in familiarity.  I know you better.  I’m more attuned to your preferences.”

“He sorted them fine on his own,” Molly retorted defiantly.

Sherlock turned to face her.  “Shall we conduct an experiment?”

“Experiment?”

Sherlock moved closer to Molly, closer than she was used to him being.  For the briefest of moments, she thought he might give her a hug, but that was very un-Sherlock like.  Then again so was kissing, which was exactly what he did.

Shock didn’t even begin to convey the exact emotion Molly was feeling.  Sherlock’s hands were on her face, warm and gentle, and his lips were firmly pressed against hers.  She stood there frozen, unable to move partially out of shock and also out of fear that he would stop.  Eventually, she found her courage and dared to touch him.  Her hand alit just barely above his shoulders.  When he didn’t react negatively, she decided to throw caution into the wind and really go for it.  Her fingers tangled themselves in his curls and she kissed him back with the passion of years’ worth of yearning.

Sherlock pulled away abruptly and held Molly at arm’s length by the shoulders.  “How was that for you?”

“Good.”  Molly blinked a few times.  “Great even.”

Sherlock nodded.  “Shall we press on?” he asked.

“Press on?” Molly questioned

“The next phase of the experiment.”

“Next…phase…”  Molly turned red.  “Sex?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“J-j-just…just like that?”

“Would you prefer a meal first?”

“No.”  Molly shook head.  “Just…why?”

“I have a question that needs answering,” Sherlock said simply.  “One that can only be solved through certain… _methods_.   Methods that require your presence.”

“A question?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered.  “Would you be opposed?”

Molly shook her head.  “No.  I just…are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

“Not a dream,” Sherlock said quickly.  “Now, would you prefer the bed or somewhere else?”

“The bed is fine.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Sherlock pulled her towards his bedroom.  He said it wasn’t a dream, but there she was in his room and snogging on his bed.  It certainly felt like a dream.  And yet…

“Wait,” Molly said so softly that it could almost be considered a whisper.

Sherlock drew his hands away from her as if he were afraid she might detonate at the slightest touch.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”  Molly smiled at him and caressed his cheek.  “You’re perfect.  It’s me.”

Sherlock met her eyes with a confused stare.  “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It is.  It’s just…”  Molly exhaled sharply.  “I know it probably sounds silly, but I’ve dreamed of this moment so much.  The when, the where and the how, each time it was different, but one thing was always the same.  The why,” she said.  “In my head, it was always because you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”

“Molly…”

Molly pressed her finger to his mouth.  “Please let me finish,” she asked.  He gave a single nod and she lowered her hand with a sigh.  “I know things are different for you,” she told him.  “I’d never want to change that about you.  Honestly, I doubt I could even if I tried,” she added with a quiet laugh.  “You mean so much to me, Sherlock.  Probably more than any other man ever has or ever will.  What I’m saying is…”  She paused to gather her courage.  “I love you, Sherlock Holmes.  I love you with every fibre of my being.  And because I love you, I’m going to walk away right now.”

Sherlock said something next that she wasn’t used to hearing him say.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a bit like that part of the Bible that says love isn’t selfish and it doesn’t insist on its own way,” Molly explained.  “I’m not particularly religious, but that always stuck with me.  So as much as I would love to stay here and fall into your arms and let you make all of my dreams come true, it’s not right because…it’s not you.  I can tell you care, Sherlock.  This alone is proof positive.”  She stared into his eyes.  “And it’s enough for me,” she assured him.  “Loving you and knowing that you care for me in return is enough.”

Sherlock sat up straight and stared ahead as if to process her words.  Molly wasn’t going to disturb him because she was sure he had a lot to think about.  So she quietly stood up and let him to his thoughts.

As soon as Molly stepped out of 221B onto the pavement, she felt the tears come.  She wasn’t entirely sure why she was crying, but she knew she couldn’t stop them so she gave into the outpouring of emotion.  She pulled her collar up high around her face, and looped her scarf around to shield her tears.  She had embarrassed herself enough for one day.  She didn’t need to be the lonely girl crying on the tube too.  She was barely a few metres away when she felt Sherlock’s long fingers grip her shoulders and turn her body towards his.

Sherlock’s gaze fixed on hers.  It was hard and determined.  “I won’t pretend to know how this works.  To do so would be pointless and as you know I’m deliberate in everything I do,” he said.  “You are… _more_ than just an experiment.   I don’t have the words which is new for me and extremely frustrating,” he confessed.  He closed his eyes and paused thoughtfully.  Molly wasn’t sure what to do other than stay still while he retreated to his mind palace.  “A litmus test,” he said finally.

“Sorry?”

Sherlock opened his eyes.  “I don’t want to conduct an experiment.  I want to perform a litmus test,” he said.  “These feelings…this is all new and it’s extremely vexing.  So I need to make sense of it in the only way I know how to do so,” he explained.  “I would hope that you could be patient while I figure things out.”

Molly nodded.  “I can.  I will.”

“Good.”  Sherlock gave a curt nod and took her by the hand.  “Let’s go.”

Molly stumbled along behind him for a few steps before she regained her footing.  “Go where?”

“Back to Baker Street.  Haven’t you been listening?” Sherlock asked without looking back.  “We’re going to perform a test.”  He paused and looked back at her.  “Is that alright?”

Molly squeezed his hand.  Sherlock looked down at their hands then back up at her.  “Yes,” she answered with a slight flush to her cheeks.

Molly was surprised she even made it to back Sherlock’s flat.  She had gone all weak in the knees and she wasn’t entirely sure how her legs managed to carry her weight, but they did, straight back to his bedroom.

This was really happening.  All the daydreams and fantasies she had of her and Sherlock over the years.  Now it was finally happening.  It wasn’t a false start like before.  This time there was no turning back.

His hands cradled her face again.  Palms warm against her cheeks followed again by the newly familiar sensation of his lips on hers.  He broke away again, much to Molly’s dismay, to untie her scarf.  He shrugged off his suit jacket and Molly removed her own coat as well.  He was about to start on his shirt, but Molly interjected.

“Let me,” she said.  Sherlock paused to consider the request before ultimately relinquishing the task to her.  Molly bit her bottom lip as her fingers worked on the buttons one by one, giving his shirt a quick tug to untuck it from his trousers so she could finish off the last few buttons.

Sherlock reached to remove her hair tie so that her hair fell loose around her shoulders.  Then he pulled her jumper up over her head and undid the buttons on her blouse with much steadier hands than she had.  Her blouse was on the ground before she knew it.  Along with his shirt, two pairs of trousers, socks, his boxers and, thankfully, one of her more presentable sets of matching bra and knickers.

They came together again beneath the sheets, side by side so neither one had the distinct advantage, but she let him take the lead anyway.  Palms on her face.  Fingers in his hair.  Lips pressed together.  Chest to chest.  Hips aligned.  Legs tangled.  Sherlock’s movements were focused and deliberate.  Every so often he would steal a glance at her face.  He was trying to gauge her reactions, she realised.  Even now, he was still deducing her.

“Don’t think,” Molly breathed against his earlobe.  “Just do what feels right.”  Sherlock met her eyes with a startled expression and for a fraction of a second, she was afraid he might stop all together.  Instead, he rolled them over so that he was on top of her.  His movements took on a new fluidity.  He was still deducing her, but his responses were fuelled by his instincts rather than a conscious thought process.  He didn’t bother to check her reactions anymore either, but Molly was sure that the sounds she was making let him and anyone in shouting distance know exactly what she was experiencing.

After their bodies stilled, Molly closed her eyes and sighed.  She wanted to stay in the moment forever.  She wanted to permanently burn the memory into her mind so that she could never forget a second of it.  The touch of his long fingers on her skin, the taste of his lips, the smell of his shampoo when the buried his face into the crook of her neck, the sound of his voice as he called her name and the look of his eyes in those final moments.

“You’re still in bed,” Sherlock’s voice broke her from her thoughts.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Molly blushed and sat up.  Sherlock had been in the process of getting dressed, but he stopped to address her.  “No.  Just thinking.”

“About sex.”

Molly’s cheeks burned a bit redder if that was even possible.  “Well, yes.”

“An evaluation of my performance, perhaps?”  Sherlock suggested.  “Notes could be helpful for future reference, but please do refrain from mentioning your _liaison_ with my brother.”

Molly winced at his words.  “I could say the same for you,” she retorted bitterly.  She gathered the sheet around herself and slid off the bed to retrieve her clothes.

“Modesty is futile at this point, wouldn’t you say?” Sherlock asked.  “I’m in possession of intimate knowledge of your body.”

Molly exhaled sharply and defiantly clung to the sheet.  “You’re bloody impossible!”  She gathered the last of her clothes and stumped off to the bathroom to get dressed.  When she emerged, fully dressed, she found him once again inspecting his clue wall.

“I’ve devised an answer to my question and it would seem that my brother was onto something,” Sherlock said casually without looking at her.  “Your night together has indeed sparked something in me.”

“Do you know what?”  Molly asked angrily.  “This…”  She gestured between the two of them.  “This meant more to me than anything I ever shared with your brother, but you just had to ruin it!”  Sherlock turned to face her.  “It was supposed to be special, but you had to go and turn it into another competition with him, didn’t you?  He never made it about you.  It was always about me.  _My_ comfort.  _My_ needs.  I thought this was the same, but clearly I was wrong.”  She looped her scarf around her neck.  “Well I can tell you one thing right now.  There really isn’t a comparison between the two of you.  You may be the better detective, but you’re definitely not the better man.”

Molly turned and left with her head held high.  It wasn’t until she was several blocks away that her shoulders slumped down and her courage left her.  Sherlock hadn’t followed after her, but she didn’t expect him to this time.  She reached for her mobile and dialled Martha’s number.  “Martha, I need you,” she said when Martha answered.  “I’ve really stepped in it this time.”


End file.
